


under cover of darkness

by pistolgrip



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, In Vino Veritas, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 10:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19061032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: Six's laughs, even when uninhibited by alcohol, are private things.





	under cover of darkness

Six isn't often social, and so Siete makes the best of the rare times they spend time together. Despite not hiding his gripes with him, Six seems to mind less when the invitations for company are for only the two of them instead of their entire group.

With a few drinks in him he'll be more relaxed, shooting the shit like Siete were an old friend. But even if Six is relaxed, his and Siete's definition of _trivial matters_ differs from the regular populace by virtue of their history and their line of work. It doesn't help that the guy forgets which of his old traumas are, in fact, traumas and passes them off like regular childhood stories, but at least he's in a good mood tonight. He wouldn't go so far as to call Six _jovial,_ but he's relaxed, more rooted in the present than he is in the past, talking about the Eternals and poking fun at Siete.

He'd rather have Six make fun of him than most of the other options that emerge when he's been drinking. They've had nights where discussion took a turn towards their past horrors, and drinking together becomes drinking to forget. It's a blessing that tonight is shaping up to be a night to remember, Siete thinks with relief as Six's laugh breaks him out of rumination.

Six's laughs, even when uninhibited by alcohol, are private things—his eyes close, his head tilts down to hide the sin of his amusement, punctuated by a quick shrug of his shoulders and a curl of his lips. It's different from his almost maniacal laughs that emerge when he's making fun of Siete, or when he's particularly proud of himself, or when he's challenged on something firmly in his domain.

It's not a laugh that he'd expect from anyone else. The laughs Six lets out tonight are the ones that Siete loves most, and so he does everything in his favour to elicit it, even if it's at his expense. He must _really_ be in a good mood tonight, because it's taking little more than Siete telling stories and making a fool of himself for Six to laugh the way he loves so much.

The more time they spent together like this, the more Siete found himself falling for the smiles Six would give when uninhibited, and it would only follow that he'd soon fall for the rest of him. It's addicting to make Six happy for even a moment, to see someone so jaded about his own existence break the mask down for even a few hours. It's always been hard to stay away from him, even though he's someone that keeps human interaction at arm's length; Siete had been drawn to him first for his power, then his unshakable conviction, and then for all the little cracks in his mask through which his quieter side would reveal itself.

They're getting to the point of the night where sleep is looking more attractive than drinking more. Siete tries to hang onto the night for as long as he can, savouring every moment they spend together, but they've already been here for a few hours, and Six's eyes are starting to droop closed even as he speaks.

"Slow down, tiger," Siete laughs as Six goes to reach for his drink again. He's feeling lightheaded himself, but that too is starting to wind down into sleepiness, and with a groan, he stands up to get them both water. He returns to Six wobbling as he stands to go to the bathroom, and after a minor scuffle with neither of their hearts in it, Siete manages to get the glass of water in his hands. He gets bad hangovers if Siete doesn't bother him the night before, but when he's drunk he brushes it off, opting to drink for as long as possible.

Siete wonders, as he watches him stumble off, if it's for the same reason that he holds onto every moment of the nights they spend together.

He's taking a while in the bathroom, so Siete goes to lie down on the couch, planning to make it his resting place for the night. When he wakes up, he knows he'll find Six lying on the ground again, either not having made it to the bed or being too stubborn to sleep anywhere else. Offering the bed to each other is a familiar argument without vitriol, both of them too proud to take, and on top of the hangovers they wake up with preventable aches.

It's been a long day for Siete, though, and he feels as though he'll give in easily tonight. He's not going to sleep in the bed. Even drunk, he knows that's not an option. He crawls onto the couch and closes his eyes, waiting for Six to return before they begin their routine of insisting the other take the bed. He must be more tired than he realizes between his mission and the drinking; when he closes his eyes, it's as if sleep has already taken him. He barely registers the light turning off when Six comes back from the bathroom.

Six takes his time cleaning up, moving their empties to somewhere they can be easier disposed of the next morning. After a moment of silence follows the sound of footsteps dragging over to the kitchen, and then the tap runs, water filling a glass. This, too, is another wordless routine, tidying up wordlessly depending on who passes out first.

For the time being, it's comfortable white noise for him to drift off to, preparing for sleep to take him. Siete's sleep after a night of drinking is almost always dreamless, which is why he knows he's awake when it happens:

The lights are off now, darkness enveloping Siete and guiding him to sleep. He's at that sweet spot of not fully conscious and not yet asleep, where everything blurs into sweet nothingness. After a while, the noise of shifting blankets onto the floor drift into his thoughts, and he thinks about how one day he should get Six into a bed after they drink. He almost drifts off to the thought of Six getting a good night's sleep instead of one marred by the anxiety of constant readiness against attacks, one haunted by nightmares.

Then, the rustle of the blankets stop, but he hears footsteps approach, so light against the floor that if he didn't know Six any better, he wouldn't have heard them at all. They stop right beside him, but it's too much of a labour to open his heavy eyelids and ask if there's something wrong, his breathing already entering the steady metronome beat of light sleep.

He feels fingertips graze across his forehead to push his hair out of his eyes, and rarely is Siete self-conscious about his appearance—but he finds himself thankful he'd taken a shower after he got back from the mission, before they started their routine of a night of drinking.

"You expend so much needless energy when you meet with me. And for what?"

Rarely is Siete self-conscious about his appearance, which is why he knows it's not the reason his heart is thundering in his ears right now. After a moment of hesitation palpable in the air, he feels Six's lips against his forehead, and it must be impossible for Six to miss his heartbeat speeding up rapidly until it threatens to burst from his chest.

The light pressure stays there for a few seconds, enough for Six to breathe in and out and enough for Siete to stop breathing completely. It's not a light peck, so quick that he could imagine that it didn't happen at all. Six isn't like that. He makes himself scarce most of the time, but when he makes himself known, he leaves no doubt as to who he is.

When Six breaks away, it's too soon. Siete's fingers twitch with the urge to bring him back and kiss him properly, like a horrifically drunk retelling of Sleeping Beauty; now that he's been awoken, he wants nothing more than to be carried away by what could pass as a fairy tale for people like the two of them if only for a moment, under the excuse that intoxication is kind enough to grant them.

But in the end, he pretends he's asleep, and the uneven gait of a still-drunk Six patters back to the pile of blankets in the middle of the room. His breathing evens out soon afterwards, calm in sleep like a man in prayer after confession—but it leaves Siete wide awake and staring at the ceiling, the knowledge of Six's returned feelings heavy on his chest and trapping him there.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still trying to find something to write for the new skin but there's just so much. there's so much potential  
> for the _in vino veritas_ square on my personal trope_bingo card


End file.
